


A Planned Visit

by hannibalsketches



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bondage, Darkness Kink, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Poor Poor Will, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season 2, Severe Rape, Someone Help Will Graham, detailed sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:57:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalsketches/pseuds/hannibalsketches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cages are traditionally used to keep the criminals in, away from the rest of society. For Will Graham, it keeps the monsters out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Planned Visit

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever dabble into the darker side of smut. Inspired by that delectable Season 2 preview! I (sadly) don't own Hannibal, or it's characters, but greatly praise both Thomas Harris and Bryan Fuller for their gall to create them! Enjoy!

He was undoubtedly doomed, locked up in a maximum security nut house for crimes he doesn't remember committing.

 

Or at least, that's what he keeps telling himself.

 

Moments ago, the lovely men in white had come for him, dragging the broken man to a secluded location via straight jacket and the damned mask.

 

They had locked him up again, only this time in a rat cage, big enough for him to shift around in, but small,  _unbearably_ small.

 

It seemed one of his reoccurring visitors requested it, and he knew who the moment the door locked behind. He could hear the breathing before it started, slight and careful. He could feel the presence before it entered. Dark. Demanding.  _Consuming_.

 

"Hello, Will. How are you feeling?"

 

It was now the sixth time the  _real_ Chesapeake Ripper had visited him.

 

"How do you  _think_  I feel?" His tone was far from the stutter he used to have, now wholesome and solid. He wasn't sad, detached Will Graham anymore. Now he was sane. Now he could really  _see_.

 

"Angry. Mistreated."

 

Will finds himself smiling, chuckling at doctor's well placed humor. He knew all too well of Will's emotional turmoils, it seemed.

 

"Don't I have a right to be? Falsely accused...while the realcriminal walks free..."

 

"And who  _is_ the real criminal, William?"

 

Was Hannibal Lecter  _teasing_ him?

 

It certainly seemed so. The crude, pale lighting was striking the man in a dangerous manner, hitting all the high points in his bone structure, making him more and more inhuman with every lowlight. There were no other guards. Hannibal had specifically asked for them to remain alone.

 

Will laughs again, truly laughs at everything. The situation, Hannibal's tone. Take away the cage and they'd be in another 'helpful' appointment.

 

"I don't know which is worse...believing that I did it..."

 

He finally,  _finally_ makes eye contact with the man, finding a brutal, animalistic tint to his iris that might have been there the whole time.

 

"Or believing that you did this to me."

 

Hannibal seems to contemplate for a moment, sifting through the quickly changing psyche Will possessed now.

 

"Will. You are still not in your best state of mind, perhaps-"

 

" _Don't_. I do not  _require_  your help, Hannibal. I'm not broken."

 

The doctor smiles, a gesture laced with malice and horror. He turns, heading torwards the door, and for a moment, Will nearly cries in relief.

 

Maybe he had avoided the storm another today.

 

Still, luck, as it would seem, had no desire to stay on his side. This doom was a long time coming, he knew it. Ever since Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Perhaps longer.

 

All Will knew now was that he had the  _pleasure_  of being on the receiving end of whatever it was.

 

Hannibal only turns out the light, encasing the room in complete darkness too deep to be real. Would he die here, and join the list of thousands? Were there friends there? Had he killed Jack? Beverly?  _Alana_?

 

The questions are numbing, so when Hannibal  _does_  do something, it nearly jolts Will like a hot needle.

 

He doesn't just jump at the contact, but at  _where_ Hannibal decided to reach first.

 

His strong, terrifying hands grip Will's  thigh, and whatever stoicism the prisoner had left shatters into a million pieces.

 

"No." He pleads. It only prompts the hands further up, to the zipper of his prison jumper. It's slowly pulled down, and the cold air makes Will shiver. He begins to fully cry, deciding that this brand of punishment was far more  _severe_ than he could have imagined. His knuckles surely whiten at the force in which he grips the bars of his cage.

 

"Please,  _no_."

 

They are empty begs, to a seemingly empty room. He was talking to himself.

 

A rustle of keys and a turning of a lock tell him that the contact door, just at his lower belly was removed.

 

The rush of Hannibal's rough warm hands on his stomach reground Will. The doctor was easing up his cotton shirt, but making it a point to not remove it. 

 

Then, he pays attention to Will's briefs.

 

Hannibal begins by ghostly brushes, and warm, hearty puffs of breath. Will nearly screams when he begins to respond, but finds his mouth already dry.

 

In a swift, precise movement, the underwear is removed, sliding halfway down Wills wobbling knees.

 

Hannibal grips them,  _hard_ , pulling Will rough against the opening, leaving the prisoners semi hard cock out in the open. His fingernails dig menacingly into skin, a warning.  _Do not move_.

 

Will is forced to comply, feeling exposed and mortified at the lack of sensation he suddenly feels. Hannibal had retreated, into the void. 

 

He's back with a force, gripping Will, and completely encasing him in his mouth. The former detective can only groan out, and shudder, awakening the rest of his neglected libido.

 

Hannibal smiles, he's sure of it.

 

He begins a slow, agonizing process of attention. Small licks. Hard swallows. In a matter of minutes, Will is putty in the doctor's hands once more. His legs try to give out, but are kept from doing so by rough, calloused hands gripping his back. They slowly lower, to his ass, and massage with appalling tenderness. Will can only mewl into the cage bars, his face pulled flush against them.

 

This was wrong. This was  _cruel_. Only mere months ago, he would be gushing under such attention. Not now, or ever again. Hannibal had  _used_  him, used everyone. Will was in love. Hannibal was just playing the game.

 

His cock was surging now, but Will wasn't feeling the pleasure, only the pain.

 

Hannibal gently nips the base, digging his fingernails into flesh.

 

He explodes.

 

It's a relief, almost, to feel the orgasm shoot through. The doctor releases his presence, and Will falls to his knees.  Perhaps now, the torture would cease.

 

Another jingle of keys,  and the entire  _door_  is opened. The prisoner nearly topples over, but is caught by swift, strong arms.

 

"Will."

 

It was the first time either of them had spoken, and thoroughly  shatters Will further. He's a sobbing mess in the doctor's arm, holding his arms with fear and frustration. Things were slowly turning back to the way they were.

 

"W-Why?"

 

The voice he summons is pathetic, weak and painful. Hot tears run like rivers down his face. Was this even real anymore?

 

His answer is a forceful kiss, grinding and invading in all the wrong ways. Will has to open up, or risk his mouth being bitten off.

 

When Hannibal's tongue thrusts down his throat, it exerts power, and tastes of Will's blood, and Will's cum. Just as it has always been.

 

When he finds no further pleasure in wrecking Will's mouth, Hannibal draws back. Even in the darkness, his stare is evident. Brooding, perhaps the very same look he gave them all, before ending their lives. But he wasn't going to kill Will.

 

"I love you."

 

No, he was going to make Will  _suffer_. This wasn't real, it couldn't possibly be.

 

"Wh-What?"

 

Hannibal's lips meet his ear.

 

"I love you." 

 

The three words are daggers in his brain, cutting off all rhyme and reason from then on. This wasn't a game anymore, it was a dance.

 

"Oh  _god_.."

 

Will manages to swallow the bile creeping up his esophagus, instead opting for shallow, short breaths. His heart was racing. Hannibal chuckles, somewhere out in the vast darkness. Laughing because he has Will right where he wants him,  _has_ had him all along.

 

The tenderness of a lover is swiftly replaced with the ruthlessness of a killer.

 

Will is flipped over, and his head smacks the steel floor with deadly force. The rest of the clothing is removed, leaving the cage almost painfully cold. Hannibal puts him on his knees, and Will screams in panic.

 

"No! God, Hannibal, please!"

 

His satin, booming physique leans over Will, and he whispers again in his ear.

 

"Relaxing might help ease the pain, William."

 

He's being reduced to nothing more than a mound of flesh, a mockery of all that he stood for.

 

Hannibal, the  _Chesapeake Ripper_ for Christ's sake, chomps down, hard on his bum. Will's second scream is muffled by the floor, now contorting his nose painfully. Even though his vision is empty, he can see the red, gushing from a mark of perfect teeth.

 

Hannibal's breathing picks up steadily, and his own loins flutter with the additive metallic tang to the air. He gathers some on a fingertip, suckling it eagerly. Bitter, wholesome, with sweet undertones. Better than the oldest bottle of Domaine Romanée-Conti. It was everything he dreamed of, and more.

 

With sharp, precise movements, he scoops up the ruby treasure, rolling it with relish over his fingers.

 

Will gasps when he thumbs over a very sensitive spot. Without mercy, he prods in, the blood serving as only little lubrication to the sheer force he had. He needed Will around him.

 

Hannibal ruthlessly digs further in, grinning devilishly at the sound it draws from his soon to be lover. He laughs at the buck his Will gives, when his knuckle brushes the scrumptious bundle if nerves within. The prostate was raw, aching, but Hannibal didn't care.

 

Perhaps at the beginning of this engrossing tango, he could have pursued a  _real_  relationship. Will's emotion's for him were evident. They could have been happy.

 

No, correction,  _Will_  could have been happy. Hannibal wouldn't back down from his cannibalistic urges so easily. He'd only get more dangerous...

 

Below, Will Graham's mind is splitting, weeping from abuse.  It was already torture rotting in a cell, knowing the real criminal walked among his friends and colleagues. It was torture having everyone around him think he was insane.  _This_ , however, was pure  _evil_.

 

Will unleashes a low, guttural howl as Hannibal pushes into him. He rips,  _bleeds_  around the thick cock. When the tip hits prostate, it hurts. His own member refuses to respond properly, only thuds with a dull ache.

 

Will was Hannibal's sex toy, his puppet. The strings were in place the moment they met in Jack's office.

 

With his mind slowly going into shock, Will tries to relax, to somehow turn the pain into pleasure, but its too late.

 

Hannibal comes, with god-like force, ripping Will without mercy.

 

The prisoner blacks out.

 

-

 

A distant voice pries him from sleep hours later.

 

"William?"

 

The tone is cool, collected,  _evil_. Will recognizes it immediately.

 

"Doctor Lecter?" His eyes peel open, and Will finds himself in a steel cage, his face against the bars in exhaustion. Hannibal stands on the other side, a plaid suit on him, pressed to perfection.

 

"Where am I? Why are _you_  here?"

 

"You were put in the cage upon Jack's request. The guards say you grew delirious, and had an episode... Will,"

 

He closes the distance between them, glancing at Will with raw,  _passionate_ eyes. 

 

"They said that you were calling  _my_ name."

 

Will snickers, pulling back from the front of his prison, and composing  himself.

 

" _Why_ would I call  _you_?"

 

Hannibal flits with momentary anger, but it fades quickly, replaced by a calculating stare.

 

"You tell me. Your mind hasn't been right for a very long time, Will. Perhaps you were reaching out, for help?"

 

The prisoner laughs in delirium.

 

"Why on  _earth_  would I try to get help...from the Chesapeake Ripper?"

 

He was slowly remembering the events moments ago, Hannibal pounding into him. Hannibal's mouth on his cock. Hannibal's poisonous kiss. Was all that still real?

 

He didn't ache now, and his mouth didn't taste of copper.

 

"Your mind is still conflicted, I see."

 

" _My mind_  is perfectly fine. I will remember, and when I do...there will be a reckoning."

 

Hannibal turns, stepping aside for the guards to remove Will from his enclosure. As soon as the prisoner steps, the pain nearly doubles him over. He could feel the ache now, deep inside his loins. The scab on his back side, the mixture of semen and blood inching down his calf. He looks up at Hannibal, brow knitted in pain.

 

His smile answers all questions.

**Author's Note:**

> How did I do? Please let me know! I love feedback, or criticisms, since I am just now getting into smut!


End file.
